


Orphic.

by amaranthine_enihtnarama



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Tragedy, Assassins & Hitmen, F/F, F/M, Inspired by Kuroshitsuji, Love/Hate, Major Original Character(s), Science Fiction & Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Some Humor, Supernatural Elements, also as a warning there may be some moments of mildly dubious consent so just stay woke, enjoy your time :), have fun reading lol, lowkey this might be a mess, so i'm just gonna avoid being too specific, the tags are a lie because I am constantly confused about my stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2020-05-15 20:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19303108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaranthine_enihtnarama/pseuds/amaranthine_enihtnarama
Summary: "They came from the sky like angels, brilliant and astonishing. They lived among us cloaked in shadow. When we found them, they welcomed us. They were kind and giving. Then, when they trusted us most, we betrayed them. Subjugated them to propel ourselves forward and crush the world under our boot. Now, our sins have caught up with us, and the poisons that festered have erupted. There's no escaping it."On January 1st, 1886, something seemingly inconsequential would occur that set in motion a chain of events that would never leave the world the same again. A boy Earl, a ruthless assassin and a black-clad devil arrive at Kiernan Castle under the direction of the queen, met by a Countess whose investigation is slowly encroaching on a dark secret that everyone seems desperate to keep under wraps. Their lives intertwine as they pursue a voracious killer who proclaims their crimes as revenge. But, as they get closer to the truth, they find themselves entering a world drowning in shadows; a world greater than--but within--themselves. Can they succeed? Or will they come undone?Welcome to a world of terror, lust, bloodshed, power, desire, revenge, and greed. Welcome to the world of Orphic.





	1. Prelude

_A Prelude — The Serpent’s Message_

I love it when they run. Or when my target scampers about like a headless roach, trying to take cover from my bullets. Or the uncertainty in the client’s eyes when they come to me, unsure if they can trust me; if I’ll bite. I was born to be The Mamba. My mother knew it when I first got my hands on a knife. I knew it when I first saw the life leave someone’s eyes, and felt their last breath tickle my face like a gentle breeze. The feeling you get, the rush, it’s like lying in a warm bed after a long, frigid day. I can’t describe it as anything other than pure catharsis. Of course, I don’t know where my instinct came from, but it’s certainly not my place to question the talent I’ve been blessed with. Killing is an art; it requires a particular delicacy and respect that is very hard for most killers to grasp. It’s a careful balance between the beautiful and the grotesque, of honor and disregard. I don’t mean to put myself on too high of a pedestal, but to be frank, I think someone up there wantsme doing this. If that wasn’t the case, why would I be born into such a prestigious family of assassins? Why would I be stronger and faster than the others? Why would a rotten soul be given such a beautiful exterior? Maybe you disagree, or perhaps you’ve already written me off as a monster — you certainly wouldn’t be wrong. At least, that's what I had thought. 

There was a charming ignorance that came with my confidence in my lack of humanity. Of course, that was before everything came to pass...long before my god-nephew came back from the dead. Before _Az árnyék_ and Lislin Forest, before the black-clad demon and his _many_ delights...

But most importantly, it was before I met her, before I was assigned to kill Eilish Kiernan.

Now, what will follow is far from just my story. I’m only one of the main players, and I’m certainly not the hero. You may despise me after this story ends. And that’s alright; you still wouldn’t be in the wrong. 

I just wanted to give you some perspective; to clear my name before it is sullied. Although, in the grand scheme of things, my actions weren’t significant. Compared to some certain people, I was quite well behaved. I’m sure you’re wondering though — who could be worse than a cold-blooded killer, and what could outshine the soulless atrocities she’s committed? Well, you’ll have to find out for yourself, won’t you? 

  
I mean, I _could_ tell you, but I’d have to kill you.


	2. That Butler, Assigned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "and like the moon,  
> she had a side of her  
> so dark, that even the stars  
> couldn't shine on it;  
> she had a side of her  
> so cold, that even the sun  
> couldn't burn on it."  
> \- Abagail J.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I just wanted to let you know I'm still editing this story and more will be added to this chapter as I write it. Don't worry, the next chapter will be complete! :)
> 
> Status: Complete!

The evening was filled with satin gowns and extravagant meals for Baroness Adrianna Speight. Things had been going well for her. Fresh new inheritance, a beneficial marriage, and a brand new baby on the way. Not to mention the gorgeous manor she now called her home. Luck had smiled on her--even if it was a stroke of luck she had to make herself. But in this day and age, who didn't pull the strings of fate a bit to get the ball rolling? Her father didn't have long anyway. But that was the past. Now, she had a new life and a much brighter future. Nothing would change that for her. What could?  
Adrianna was hesitant to drink at first, with the baby, and all it seemed to be a bad idea. But as the night went on, and the music swelled louder in her ears, with everyone around her growing drunker and the sweet, fruity scent of the champagne, Adrianna couldn't help herself. One drink couldn't hurt.

One painless drink turned into two, three, four completely harmless glasses to have passed through her lips. The Baroness had begun to feel tipsy, but she was practically sober compared to her husband. The two danced, spinning and gliding across the dance floor with a champagne-induced euphoria. Everyone danced. Laughter and smiles surrounded her as her head began to spin. She laughed, resting her head on her husband's shoulder.

"I think it's time I have a break, my dear," she said. Her husband groaned loudly in response, tripping over his feet. She laughed again.

"I think you need a break too."

Her husband groaned again, abruptly stopping their dance and stumbling away from her. Adrianna frowned.

"Christian? What's wrong?"

He let out a cry of pain, clutching his stomach, and falling to his knees. Alarmed, Adrianna rushed over to him and tried to help him to his feet. He was pale, with beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

"Christian? Christian?! Are you alright?! Do you need a doctor?!"

Adrianna looked around, seeing people begin to groan and crumble to the floor. Adrenaline began to rush through her as Christian broke out into a coughing fit, folding over into her lap. Adrianna's eyes darted around the ballroom for a servant, but none were in sight. 

"Help," she called. "Someone help!" 

There was no response. Christian's body convulsed as he continued to hack and cough. His hands began to flail around Adrienne's face and shoulders, and with trembling hands, she helped him upright. He struggled to catch his breath between fits, his chest heaving with much effort. 

"Ad--Adri--" 

"What is it, my love?" 

He looked at her with bleary eyes as tears streamed down his cheeks. Blood dribbled from his lips. He feebly tried to reach for her face, and Adrianna placed his hand on her cheek. 

"I--" he coughed again. His shoulders sank as he gasped. "Forgive me..." 

"What? What do you--" 

"I never should...I just wanted to avenge him..." 

Adrianna's heart sank. "Christian, what did you do?" 

"I should have...never gone to her..." 

Adrianna's heart stopped at those words. Christian slumped over, going limp. Tears filled Adrianna's eyes as she laid him down and staggered to her feet. Her legs shook. Most of everyone had died, sprawled on the ground or hunched over and still clutching their stomachs — the stray few that remained sat in tears, completely silent. The ballroom had gone from raucous and festive to still. Just...still.

Then, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. Adrianna watched forebodingly as the rest that lived rushed to the steps. She slowly backed away from the double doors as the relieved voices of survivors turned into screams of terror and agony. Her back met the doors to the balcony, and she froze. There was no escape. 

A woman stopped in the doorway, dressed as a butler. Her hair was tied back, giving Adrianna a better view of her face. But even if her hair even if she dyed her hair blonde and her eyes became blue, nothing would ever stop Adrianna from recognizing The Mamba's face. A tear fell from her eyes as their gazes met. The woman smirked. 

"Well, well, well," she began, setting her tray of champagne glasses down. "If it isn't the illustrious Baroness." 

Adrianna's jaw felt wired shut. Her body refused to move. She was taut, stiff under The Mamba's keen amber gaze. 

"Oh, please excuse my rudeness," she said, turning to the glasses. She picked one up, raising it towards Adrienne. "Would you like a drink?" 

  _The champagne! She poisoned the champagne!_ The Mamba laughed. 

"Well, if you won't have it..." 

She took out a flask, pouring its contents into her glass and taking a drink. Having a seat in one of the plush chairs against the wall, she let out a quiet moan of approval.

"Mmm, it's quite lovely. Hits the right spots." 

"Why are you here," Adrienne suddenly muttered. 

"Oh, she speaks!" 

"Why are you following me?!" 

Adrienne's voice echoed throughout the room. The Mamba gave her a strange look, a grin forming on her face. 

"Following you? Oh, please." 

She chuckled. "Following you -- oh, get over yourself!" 

Adrienne took shaky breaths. "Are..." 

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to..." 

"Kill you? Naturally." 

Adrienne gasped, a chill running down her spine. Her hand settled onto her womb, tears welling in her eyes. 

"But --" 

"Come now; you know how this works." 

"But my child..." 

The Mamba nodded, humming to herself. "Yes, your baby. How sad." 

Adrianna's mind raced. "Why did you kill Christopher? He was your client." 

She leaned back in her chair. "The good Baron was one of many attending tonight. It was such a funny coincidence, each of my targets at the same ball." 

"But--"

Adrianna's head began to pound, and the world tilted and spun. Her vision blurred. She squinted, stumbling away from the balcony doors. Her heart slammed in her chest as fear coursed through her body. She had drunk four glasses of champagne. The image of her husband dazed, hacking and choking filled her mind as she whimpered, backing into a wall and sinking to the ground. She hugged her knees, falling over onto her side.

"Don't worry," The Mamba said, her voice warm and silvery. "It won't hurt."

She sounded so close now. Adrianna's eyes fluttered shut. Warmth flooded her body as tears trickled down her temples. 

"Just sleep, Baroness." 

 _Yes. Sleep._ Adrianna's breaths grew weaker and strained, then the time between them grew longer until they stopped. She grew still, body relaxing. The Mamba picked her up, set her down in the chair, and leisurely made her way out of the mansion. 

She walked along the road and followed it into the forest, where a lone carriage sat, along with a driver that sat by a lantern. He was dressed in white, had a slight frame, and a cold, baby blue gaze — the two locked eyes. 

"Good evening, Charles," she greeted. "Oh, how kind. Have you come to give me a ride home?" 

Charles gave her an impassive look, pulling out a letter. "Her Majesty requires your services."

"Doesn't she always," The Mamba remarked, taking the letter from his gloved hand. 

"It's of great importance, Lady Benanni," he said. "It's a matter of nat--" 

 _"National security,"_ she drolled, cutting him off. "Oh, so serious."  

Charles let out a sigh. "Get in the carriage. Your bonus is inside." 

She lit up. "Very nice!" 

The door opened, revealing a man of larger build than the driver, but having the same appearance. The Mamba smiled. 

"Ah, Charles! How nice to see you!" 

"Good evening, Leila."

She entered the carriage. It drove off into the forest, bound for Queen Victoria's palace. Charles handed Leila the bonus, and she gave him a pleased look after peeking inside. 

"Honestly, she spoils me." 

"Her Majesty has spared no expense. She wishes for you to do your best on this assignment." 

Leila lifted the bag, regarding it with a smile. "She certainly knows the way to my heart." 

"Well then, let's see what this is about." 

Taking out a dagger, Leila sliced open the envelope, folding the letter open. 

_"Hello, Leila._

_How have you been? I trust work has been treating you well. I recently spoke with your sister -- she's been doing good work as one of my many overseers here in England's Underground. And believe me, we need many. I do hope you'll get back to me regarding a position here Leila, your skills are much needed around here._

_But, that's not why I wrote this letter, or why I've given you such a generous bonus. I need your help with a situation in Ireland. I suppose I've let a bit of a mess be made, and I need you to clean some of it up before irreparable damage is done. I would've given the assignment to your sister, but you're far more agreeable to work with regarding such delicate situations as these._

_Have you heard of Countess Eilish Kiernan? She's lovely. Beautiful, headstrong, virtuous, intelligent. She's an exquisite young lady. I have her occupied with an assignment that I fear may lead to her learning a few...unsavory things regarding the crown. I don't question her loyalty, but I am not ignorant. She's gone against my word and disobeyed orders in favor of what was righteous. But in a world such as ours, there are times to be black and white, and times when one's views must be gray. And I'm afraid Eilish quite frankly cannot see anything in that gray. It is most unfortunate, but I fear she already knows too much, and is on her way to causing many extremely inconvenient situations for myself and others._

_I know you don't have any concern about details, so I won't take up any of your time regarding that. I just ask that you don't give this assignment your usual...flair so to speak. And be extremely careful. I imagine the job will be quick, but if you're involved long enough, you must be mindful. The assignment Eilish is involved with is quite dangerous. I also ask you don't compromise the Countess's assignment. What she has been dealing with is very sensitive information. This is of national importance._

_Best Wishes,_

_Victoria."_

 

"Eilish, eh?" 

Leila folded up the letter, looking out of the window. She was pensive for a moment until a grin formed on her lips. 

"Oh, this'll be fun."

* * *

"Young Master, it's time to wake up." 

Ciel groaned, pulling the covers over his head. His butler, Sebastian, silently made his way to the curtains and opened them. He turned to the bed, where Ciel remained curled up under the covers. He let out a sigh. 

"Young Master, I'm afraid there's no time for this today. You have a letter from the Queen." 

Ciel peeked from under the covers. "A letter? But I thought I had to wait another few months." 

Sebastian brandished the envelope before his master's eyes. "Evidently not, My Lord."

Almost instantly, Ciel had left his bed and headed for the bathroom. Sebastian followed, an amused smirk on his lips. Almost intuitively, Ciel scowled. 

"Wipe that silly grin off of your face." 

"Yes, My Lord." 

"And don't use that mocking tone with me!" 

"Of course, My Lord." 

Ciel grumbled to himself as Sebastian closed the bathroom door. Soon, Sebastian had finished getting Ciel ready for the morning. Now, the young Earl sat in his study, looking over the letter. 

> _"Dear Ciel,_
> 
> _How do you do? I hope you've been relaxing at home like I told you to. A boy like you needs to rest._
> 
> _Have you ever been to Ireland? It's rather wet and muddy this time of year, but the foggy mornings are absolutely lovely. Unfortunately, something has disturbed the peace in Ireland, and the mornings no longer carry a sense of peace, but of apprehension and foreboding._
> 
> _Are you familiar with the name Az árnyék? It's been causing quite the terror among the nobility in Ireland. A killer has been afoot bearing this name. They are vicious and bloodthirsty, massacring entire noble households without mercy. According to the information ascertained by the Countess Kiernan, Az árnyék has made their way through Europe leaving bodies and sorrow in their wake._
> 
> _We do not know Az árnyék's identity, nor do we have any possible leads towards uncovering it. I fear for the safety of my entire kingdom, and for the rest of Europe. That is why I'm counting on you and Countess Kiernan to stop Az árnyék in Ireland before they move on to terrorize another country._
> 
> _This is bigger than ourselves. Thousands of lives may rest on your shoulders. Do not fail the crown._
> 
> _Well wishes,_
> 
> _Queen Victoria."_

Ciel stared at the letter quietly, his eyes running over the same words repeatedly.  **Do not fail the crown.**

"My Lord, are you alright?" 

Sebastian eyed Ciel curiously, rolling in a trolley. Ciel tore his eyes away from the letter, glancing up to the butler. 

"I'm fine." 

He sat back in his chair, letting out a long sigh. 

"Ready my things. We're leaving for Ireland tonight." 

Sebastian bowed. "Yes, My Lord." 

* * *

"Hmm, what about...this!" 

Leila burst out from behind her changing screen, arms outstretched theatrically. Both Charles' stared at her blankly. 

"If you'd like to come up with an explanation for a Moroccan princess to be in Ireland, be my guest."

Leila rolled her eyes, slinking back behind the screen. Charles Grey let out an exasperated sigh, tapping the hilt of his sword impatiently. 

"Be serious, Lady Benanni, we are on a time limit here." 

"Good Lord, you two bore me to death," she groaned loudly from behind the screen. "Fine, fine whatever." 

The two Charles' shared a look as Leila scoffed, stalking from behind the screen. She wore a plain, cheap wool dress and an old, tattered peacoat that showed a woman that was once well-off but currently destitute. She looked down at the pair of worn, mud-caked boots she picked with disdain. 

"The scarf's a nice touch," Charles Phipps remarked. 

Leila went over to the mirror, adjusting the silk scarf over her head so it was perfect. 

"Now," she said, smiling. "Where am I from? A posh accent like this won't get me very far." 

The men thought for a moment. Leila sighed. 

"Am I American? Am I African? Am I German?" 

"What do you think?" 

She rolled her eyes. " _African. Moroccan._ "

"You don't look Moroccan," Charles Grey interjected. 

"I _am_ Moroccan, Charles."

"Really? Well, you don't look like it."

Leila ignored him, turning back to the mirror. "Anyway, A Moroccan immigrant, who doesn't speak much English, is meek and shy, dutiful, religious..." 

The two Charles' watched her as she muttered to herself, trying on different mannerisms, different tones of voice, the list went on. 

"Nadia," she said quietly. "Nadia Bekhti." 

She looked herself over one more time, then nodded, satisfied. 

"Okay, let's go." 

* * *

_**January 1st, 1886** _

"Fintan, get up." 

The redheaded girl was splayed dramatically across her bed, her skinny arms and legs hanging out from under the covers. She snored loudly, the sounds exaggerated. Lilian, her sister, giggled as Anna, the eldest of the three, glared at Fintan. 

"Fintan, we have laundry to do--" 

Fintan let out a particularly loud snore, cutting Anna off. She scowled, crossing her arms. 

"I will go polish the staircase," Lilian announced. She left the room, and instantaneously, Fintan's eyes flew open, revealing her bright, virid gaze. She grinned, curling up under the covers, undaunted by Anna's dark glare. 

Anna was a very imposing woman. She was tall, standing at about six-foot-one, tanned and freckled from the California sun, and had long, pin-straight brown hair that she always pulled back into a tightly drawn bun. Her bone structure was striking, and her sharp gunmetal eyes could stop anyone in their tracks. This innate authority she commanded over others is what made her head maid of Kiernan Castle. Mostly everybody respected her, save for one person. 

"It's bright," Fintan complained, pulling the covers over her head. "It was already bad enough waking up to your sour face; now I have to be blind too?"

Anna ripped the cover from her hands, dragging the girl out of bed. Fintan struggled, flailing her arms and legs. 

"Oi! Let me go, will ya?!" 

Fintan Rhys was an average fifteen-year-old girl. She was impulsive, moody, and very quick to anger. She was rather tall herself, but unlike Anna, Fintan's height only contributed to her gangly, awkward build. She was rather strong for a girl that couldn't weigh more than 110 pounds, and in Anna's opinion, this was most likely the only reason she still worked at Kiernan Castle. She didn't know when to hold her tongue, nor when to respect authority. In fact, she seemed spurred on to misbehave in the face of authority. And when she faced Anna's authoritarian discipline head-on when she was younger, an intense feud between the two was born and had sustained its tension for five years. 

To Anna, Fintan was lazy, uncivilized, and painfully childish. Her wild canary hair and darting, invasive eyes reminded the woman of a hysterical parrot. Anna was convinced she was raised by wolves in the forest and was a feral child. Every day she took a moment to thank God that Lilian was the exact opposite. 

On the other side of the spectrum, Fintan personally felt Anna was a bit of a cunt. 

Anna and Fintan scowled at each other for a few minutes, before Fintan huffed and begrudgingly changed into her maid's uniform. 

"Where's your corset, Fintan," she asked, the irritation already building inside of her. 

Fintan shrugged, giving her a bright smile. "Dunno." 

"How could you possibly lose something that quickly, it's only been a couple of weeks!" 

The girl rolled her eyes, combing her hair. Anna cringed at the crude sounds of Fintan absent-mindedly ripping through her hair. 

"Sweet Christ, Fintan." 

The girl sighed in exasperation. "What?" 

Anna took the comb from her hands, gently combing through her hair. Fintan had unruly hair, too. It was a forest of curls that Fintan rarely tried to tame (despite Anna's demands to), saying they added to her charisma. Usually, the woman could tolerate it, but they had guests now. 

"Fintan, I know this is a foreign concept to you, but you must make yourself presentable," she insisted, pulling back Fintan's hair into a bun with a troubling amount of effort. "We represent this household, and what sort of impression would it leave on the Earl of Phantomhive if you galavanted around looking like a woodland creature?" 

Fintan scoffed, crossing her arms. "Big deal, who cares?" 

"He's an Earl, Fintan," she said, tugging on Fintan's hair slightly. 

"So? Eilish's a Countess," she said casually. "Why does any of it matter? We weren't hired to babysit angry little boys and wait after people." 

Anna sighed, shaking her head. "Maybe you'll understand when you're older." 

"Hey, I'm fifteen! Don't talk to me like I'm some child!" 

"Fifteen? Really? You look and act like a toddler so often; I'd forgotten your age." 

"Piss off," Fintan snapped, her cheeks burning. 

Anna couldn't manage to get Fintan's hair into a bun, so she opted for a braid instead. Her fingers were sore after she got it into one giant, thick braid. She rubbed her hands with a frown. 

"Honestly," she muttered. "A newborn could take better care of themselves." 

Fintan rubbed a tender spot on her head as Anna searched for her corset, but to no avail. She was suspicious of Fintan's claim of merely losing it, but that was an argument for another time. 

"Come along, Fintan. We have laundry to do."

"Awe, again?"

It was a dewy and frigid morning, not ideal for drying laundry. Unfortunately, there wasn't much choice. Laundry in the winter months was always a pain. Anna was outside, hanging damp linens and bedclothes up to dry. Fintan usually did all the dirty work when it came to the laundry. After all, it was only fair since Anna had to make the washing soap and gather the water for the task. Besides, Fintan was the only one who could handle the god-forsaken ironing that came after the clothes had dried. Both Anna and Lilian were wary of getting burned. Anna took out another bedsheet, airing it out and--

_Oh my god._

Anna gaped at the colossal tear that ran down the middle of the sheet like a scar. This was insanity. Absolute insanity! How many times did she have to tell her?! 

Frustration brewing in her chest, she balled up the sheet, storming over to Fintan, who had been rinsing a pillowcase. The girl stood and looked at Anna with tired eyes as the woman stopped, raising the towel to Fintan's eyes. Fintan stepped back.

"What the hell are you shovin' that thing in my face for?" 

"You know damn well why," Anna exclaimed, throwing the sheet to the ground. "How many times do I have to tell you to watch your strength when you wash? You'll destroy everyone's wardrobe at this point!" 

Fintan crossed her arms, ignoring the wet spot forming n her clothes. "Oh, you force me to do the dirty work, and then you complain? Why don't you do it yourself then?" 

"Why don't you stop slacking off and do better," Anna snapped. 

"I am doing better! I barely ripped anything," Fintan's voice began to rise as she grew irritated. "And who's the lazy one when you were hired to be the _fuckin'_ _laundress_ , and then you pile your shit on me?"

"And who's the one who dusts in your stead, hmm? Is it Lilian? Ronan? No, it's me!" 

"Oh, piss off! If you're so damn worked up about things gettin' torn, maybe you should--oh, I don't know-- _do it your damn self!"_

"I swear to god, Fintan! I swear to god I will shoot you!" 

"I dare ya to try!"

The tranquil sounds of morning-time were painfully interrupted by the loud bickering of Anna and Fintan. It could be heard from within the vast manor, catching the attention of everyone inside. Lilian noticed it first as she finished polishing one of the spiral staircases, but paid it no mind. Ronan, who was making tea for the staff in the kitchen, was alarmed at the sound of yelling but quickly realized what it was and chuckled to himself. And Eilish Kiernan, who had endured a very long and arduous night, was rudely awoken by the sounds of Anna screaming death threats at Fintan, and Fintan egging her on. 

She sighed, sitting up in her bed. _What time is it?_ Wearily, Elish checked the clock, seeing it was six o'clock in the morning. She took a sharp, exasperated inhale, but remained calm. They were just cranky, adjusting to the new night watches that Eilish had started after a close call with a hitman hiding in her wardrobe. It seemed the deeper Eilish got into the case, the higher the bounty gets for her head on a platter. With another long, heaving sigh, Eilish rose from her bed, put on a robe, and opened the door. 

"Ah!" 

Eilish jumped at the sight of a young woman at her door, hand raised and preparing to knock. She froze, eyes widening. 

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" 

The woman spoke with a thick and unfamiliar accent, struggling to form words. "I...I--the--"

Eilish stared as the panic in her eyes rose. The woman fidgeted awkwardly with her coat, which was worn from the elements but was of good quality. She examined the rest of her appearance. The dress, the boots, the dirty stockings, the chapped lips -- Eilish understood clearly now. 

"Are you here for a job?" 

The woman nodded. "Yes! Erm...I have heard you're hiring maids." 

 _How strange._ Applicants are to be sent to her study. Not only that, but she managed to find her room. _Perhaps she just got lost._

"I am." 

The woman smiled. "I am Nadia. Nadia Bekhti."

Eilish looked down the empty hallway, then back at Nadia. 

"Did someone guide you here," Eilish asked, eyeing her. 

Nadia shook her head. "They gave me directions, but my English..." she let out a defeated sigh, a sheepish smile forming on her lips. "I got lost." 

Eilish studied the woman for a moment. She held an uneasiness in her eyes, most likely from nearly barging into a potential employer's bedroom. But that wasn't wholly it. There was an odd restlessness about her, with the way her amber gaze flitted around from behind her oval-framed glasses, or how her hands fidgeted after she shoved them in her coat pockets. Yes, something about her was strange. She had loose, black curls that reached past her shoulders and a silk scarf tied over her hair to keep it out of her face, golden brown skin, and dark shadows of exhaustion under her eyes. She shifted uncomfortably under Eilish's discerning gaze. Eilish smiled.

"I'll escort you to my study personally," she said. "Just allow me to gather myself first." 

"Of course." 

Eilish closed the door and freshened up, washing her face and putting on a modest dress. After grimacing at her bustle for a moment, she returned to Nadia, and the two walked to her study. 

"Everyone seems to be in a rush," Nadia mentioned. "Is there a holiday?"

"Hardly, we're just preparing for a houseguest."

"Guest?"

"Yes. Perhaps you've heard of him. Lord Ciel, The Earl of Phantomhive."

Nadia's face fell completely, but Eilish didn't notice. "Phantomhive?"

Eilish nodded. "Everyone's quite excited to have someone new in the house."

"Phantomhive," she repeated softly. 

"Here's the study," Eilish announced. "Wait at the door for a moment; I have to get the paperwork together before we start the interview. Always lose those." 

She absently nodded as Eilish flashed her a smile and closed the door behind her. Leila leaned against the wall, taking the glasses off, muttering the name to herself again. Of all the things to pull her out of character, a _living Phantomhive_. Not only that, but a living Phantomhive working a case? Why didn't anyone tell her? How long had it been since he returned? But most importantly...

_My god-nephew is alive!_


	3. That Butler, Enchanté

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hello again.  
> Have we met before?  
> Has this bitter fury rested on my tongue before?  
> Has this scalding terror ravaged my soul eternities ago?
> 
> Ah, you've returned, my friend.  
> A shadow, a revenant.  
> Does it haunt you, dear?  
> Does it linger on your lips?"

**_Late Evening._ **

A carriage made its way down a lonely paved road, a single lantern the only light for miles. The Earl of Phantomhive and his butler sat inside, both silent. He skimmed over the letter again. He sighed, his gaze rising to the sky. The gray storm clouds that had loomed over him his entire day of travels blocked out the stars and moon. 

 The ferry ride across the sea was dreadful. Noisy, crowded, and frigid. He had been in a sour mood ever since then, skimming over the letter over and over again with an intensity that suffocated the air around him. Sebastian observed him with amusement. Humans can be rather entertaining at times. There were few genuine pleasures that came with making a contract, but watching humans steadily drive themselves to madness with their inner contradictions was always quite humorous to see. How funny, he thought, that a master with such concrete desires as the one before him, still managed to fall under the spell of insecurity, despite his insisting of possessing an unwavering pride.  

"I do hope your mood improves when we arrive at the Countess's manor," the butler said. "It would be in poor taste to greet her with such a bitter expression."

The earl's eye narrowed, but he didn't meet the butler's gaze. He folded up the letter, placing it in his pocket. 

"Mind your tongue, Sebastian." 

Soon, it was in sight-- the famous Kiernan Castle. It was a marvel of architecture, a stone goliath surrounded by dense forest. The Earl recalled the stories his mother told him of the house. An ancestral castle refashioned as the home of one of the wealthiest families in the British Empire, with a ballroom that even rivaled Her Majesty's. Of course, they didn't take such a treacherous journey for a ball. They were preparing to meet the alpha of Ireland's Underworld, Countess Eilish Kiernan, or The Wolf. The young boy certainly remembered the stories about her. She was the best of the best, one of the strongest of Her Majesty's favorites. Although he would never admit it out loud, he was anxious to meet her. He glanced over at his butler, then went back to the sky, seeing the moonlight behind a dimly lit patch of clouds. 

The butler was rather content with his situation at the moment. After all, with such a good meal in his future, he didn't have a reason to feel much of anything. He'd just have to wait a few decades until the contract was completed, and he'd be awaiting the next one. His eyes were trained on the wood in front of him when the carriage briefly paused, the gate opening for them to enter Kiernan grounds. He supposed the only problem he'd have is how bored he'd be, save with toying around with his meal from time to time. Humans, as fascinating as they were, always managed to be dull and predictable in the end. It shows in their souls and blends out any flavor. He turned his attention to the window as well, observing the vibrant garden that surrounded the entrance. Red roses, orange poppies, and tall, yellow sunflowers. The carriage came to a halt, stopping in front of the small amount of staff. 

Two girls approached the carriage first. One was thinner, with pale blue eyes and a timid demeanor. The other had green eyes that reminded him of the forest they'd rode through, and had a large red bun that looked ready to burst apart. Then, a man with salt and pepper hair opened the carriage door with a warm smile, his hickory eyes shining. 

"Welcome to the Kiernan Castle," he greeted, bowing. "It's an honor to have you, Lord Phantomhive."

Sebastian watched as Ciel had a brief inner dialogue, seeming to make an agreement with himself. He could see it in his eyes--the knowledge that the moment he stepped foot out of this carriage, he'd enter a world that would force him to be _the_ Earl of Phantomhive, not just a little boy who carries the title. Sebastian stepped out of the carriage, holding Ciel's gaze with a slight smirk as if to say, _will you do it? Will you cross the final line?_

Ciel ignored his butler's gaze and exited the carriage with a confident, relaxed demeanor. No going back from here on out, that's what he told himself. No more weakness. The Watchdog meets The Wolf.

The two girls opened the castle doors, and Sebastian and Ciel were met with a crowd of staff, neatly organized in four lines and making an opening towards the stairs. There, a tall, steel-eyed woman stood at the base of the steps with a woman dressed in modest attire. Despite wearing a simple pastel blue evening dress, and having no glittering jewels or extravagant accessories one might expect with a woman of her stature, Ciel knew instantly the woman was Countess Kiernan. She smiled. 

"Hello, there," she greeted. "As I'm sure you've gathered by now, my name is Eilish Kiernan, and I am the head of this estate." 

"It's an honor to meet you, My Lady," Ciel said. "I've heard much about you." 

"Have you? I hope nothing too gruesome has reached your ears." 

She gave the boy a wink, then climbed the stairs, followed by the woman. The servants dispersed. Eilish continued to disappear upstairs, but the woman stopped and turned, seeing they were still at the base of the stairs. 

"Well, don't just idle there," she said. "You and Lady Kiernan have much to discuss." 

"Of course."

Ciel and Sebastian climbed the stairs and followed her to what they figured was Eilish's study. 

"This is it."

She opened the door, revealing a room illuminated by the glow of a modest fireplace. Eilish sat behind a great mahogany desk, looking through papers next to an oil lamp. 

"Please, enter," she urged. "I'm just gathering some materials for you to look over."

Ciel walked inside, whirling around when the door closed behind him before Sebastian could follow him. He faced Eilish again when she cleared her throat, looking at him expectantly. Calmly, Ciel took the seat opposite her, sitting up straight and tall. 

"May I see your letter?"

She held her hand out. Ciel gave it to her, and she smiled, opening the envelope and taking out the paper. Her eyes seemed dark as she read it -- like stormclouds. She looked up at him after finishing it. 

"Tell me, Lord Phantomhive, is this your first case for the Queen?"

"Yes."

"Ah," she said reservedly. "I suppose I should congratulate you then, right?"

Ciel frowned slightly in confusion. Eilish chuckled dryly. 

"Forgive me, Lord Phantomhive, it's just a boy your age is the last person I'd expect to be working on this hellish case with."

"Hellish?"

 Eilish rose to her feet, going to the fireplace. 

"I'm sure this will bruise your pride a little, but this case is unfit for a boy so young."

"I can handle it," Ciel said assuredly. 

She turned to look at him. Concern painted her face. 

"If you'll forgive me saying this, are you sure you wish to do this? Considering."

"Considering what?"

She sighed. "I'm aware of what occurred last Christmas."

Ciel's shoulders tensed. "I don't wish to dwell on this."

"I also believe I know what happened to you in that month," she said, returning to the desk. "And I wish to offer my deepest condolences for your--"

" _I do not wish to speak of this_ ," he repeated harshly. 

She clasped her hands, leaning on her desk. Her expression was grave.

"And that is why I worry about you being on this case, Lord Phantomhive." 

Ciel remained silent. Eilish held his gaze firmly as she continued. 

"I won't stop you, but I will try to sway you," she told him frankly, placing the papers before him. "Give it a night. Look over these." 

His jaw was tight as he eyed the papers. Eilish sighed again.

"Don't just do things because the Queen tells you to, especially if you're not ready." 

Ciel looked back up at her strangely. "You wish for me to disobey Her Majesty's orders?"

"Well, more like obey mine. I'll send you off and explain it to the Queen, then she'll give me one of her vaguely threatening letters "regarding my disobedience," give me another hardball case like this one when it's all resolved, and we'll all move on."

"You get off that easy?" 

She shrugged. "Victoria and I have an understanding."

* * *

**_Nighttime._ **

In her own opinion, Leila did a phenomenal job of avoiding Ciel Phantomhive upon his arrival. She pretended to be lost when they were meant to welcome him and his butler to the estate, she stayed in the lower levels dusting and cleaning ancient rooms that hadn't hosted life in ages and managed to remain invisible and blend into the sea of servants that Eilish Kiernan thankfully had. The boy hadn't noticed her, but his butler had. 

Their meeting was brief; she'd passed him while carrying dirty bedclothes to the laundry room. He was speaking to the head maid Anna, an American with a Winchester rifle stuck up her ass. Leila kept her head down and passed quietly, but she could feel his gaze on her as she made her way to the staircase -- it made the hairs on her arms stand as if a chill had passed through the air. As if on reflex, she turned and looked back to see him watching her rather candidly, with a strange look in his eye. Oh, and his eyes were strange indeed, a bloody scarlet that held her focus before noticing the rest of his features. Black hair, handsome features, and a sanguine gaze. 

How interesting.

Leila left him there but seemed to feel his gaze on her throughout the rest of the evening as if he'd latched on to her. 

Dinner was served without her, so Anna let her return to her room at her request to pray. There, she found a letter under the mattress, which she was currently reading.

 

> _Hello, Mamba,_
> 
> _Please come meet me in the town of Sutton at The Silversmith Inn. I look forward to our meeting._
> 
> _-Kit_

"Kit," she said to herself. She chuckled, repeating it again in a gruff, exaggerated voice. " _Kit._ "

She placed the letter in her suitcase, checking her watch. Nine o'clock. Leila let out a sigh, she'd go at eleven just to be safe. She closed and locked her suitcase and pushed it under her bed, going to the door. She opened the door, and to her surprise, there he was again -- the butler. He was leaving the servant's quarters but turned around at the sound of a door opening. His eyes settled on her, and he smiled. 

"Hello, how do you do," he greeted kindly. 

Leila spoke with her thick accent. "Ah...hello." 

She offered a meek and shy smile, leaving the room and closing the door behind her. He seemed surprised by this behavior. 

"I am Nadia Bekhti. What is your name?" 

He approached her. "My name is Sebastian Michaelis. I am the butler to the Earl of Phantomhive." 

There was a knowing in his eyes. There was a certain glint that seemed to see straight through her. Leila contained her frown but looked at him questioningly with the most innocent, disarming gaze she could manage. 

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Michaelis?" 

His smile changed into a grin. "Well, playing a game, are we?" 

"I don--" 

He stepped closer, gaze darting down to her lips, then fervidly taking in her body. Leila unconsciously stepped back into the door as he approached, but he only stepped forward further, the space between their face inches apart. 

"I have ached to see you again," he softly spoke, lifting her chin gently. "You've eluded me for so long, I almost didn't recognize you. But you haven't aged a single day."

Leila sharply inhaled, eyebrows furrowed. Something about his voice was familiar. She looked into his eyes, mind racing. They were like rubies, jewels. She couldn't place them--but she knew them. Something inside her knew this stranger, this Sebastian Michaelis. Her chest tightened as she swallowed and furrowed her eyebrows. He placed a hand on her cheek, starting to smile. 

"Where did you go away to, My Lady?"

"Who-"

She licked her lips, eyes darting away. With a heavy sigh, Leila met his eyes again.

"Who _are_ you?"

His face turned in a slight frown. "Leila, do you truly not remember me?"

Her mind stilled--the job. Whoever this man was, he knew her identity. He compromises the assignment. 

_Get a hold of yourself._

 "How do you know my name?"

His eyes widened and he stared, taken aback. "Why do you treat me as if I were a stranger?"

"You didn't answer my question," she retorted sharply. "What else do you know? What did have you told him?"

" _Him?"_

"You are a butler, are you not? I speak of your master, Mr. Michaelis. Ciel Phantomhive." 

It Sebastian's turn to grow cold. "What do you know of my master?"

"He's my god-nephew. Why is he here?"

He stepped back, upset. "Lei--"

"What is going on here?"

Sebastian and Leila looked to the end of the hall to see Anna standing with her arms crossed. A redheaded girl was beside her, simpering at them. 

"Come on Anna," she said with a grin. "Can't you tell when someone's trying to have a good time?" 

Anna shot her a dark look as she snickered. 

"Quiet Fintan," she hissed. She eyed Leila and Sebastian, then spoke. "I'd prefer it if you refrain from such...interactions during your time here, Mister Michaelis. But if you must, at least have the civility to do it _privately_."

Sebastian smiled. "Of course. Forgive me for my indecency."

Leila pushed past Sebastian, eyes downcast. Before she turned the corner, she looked back at him. Anna was reprimanding him further as he listened calmly. He glanced over, meeting her gaze. With narrowed eyes, Leila departed.

 

The workday ended at ten o'clock, and it took Anna about thirty minutes to sleep. When Leila opened her suitcase, Anna woke up again and told her to get some rest. Lucky her; Anna's a light sleeper, too. Soundlessly, Leila retrieved her letter from her suitcase, as well as a knife just to be safe. Then, she snuck out of the room, left the servant's quarters, climbed out of the library window and made her way to Sutton. 

It was drizzling, with a thin layer of fog hanging in the air. The sky dark -- not many stars. The moon's glow struggled to breach the thick storm clouds. _Oh dear, storm clouds._ She sprinted into the forest, making her way down the great hill that Kiernan Castle sat upon. Sutton wasn't very far, just a few miles down and out at the end of the forest. Eventually, she'd be able to follow the road. 

Oh, it was freezing tonight, just lovely. Her hands felt stiff and dry, and each time a branch would scratch them it felt as if a knife was dragged along her skin. Her breath made brief clouds of mist as she made her way through the forest at a brisk jog. It was quiet; too quiet. All she could hear was her breath. 

Soon she was jogging down the road, reaching the end of the forest and seeing faint lights in the distance. At last, she heard something. Boisterous laughter and music. She ran down the road -- which had mud caking in the crevices of the stone -- and snuck behind the buildings of Sutton. The townsfolk were busy indeed. Laughing, singing and drinking in one building, having sex in another, telling stories and listening to records in another, and so on and so forth until one building was completely silent. Slowly, Leila made her way to the front. Sure enough, the sign read  _The Silversmith Inn_ and had a lantern glowing softly inside. 

Leila climbed the creaky wooden steps and after a pause, knocked quietly on the door. It opened quickly, revealing a man with dark, tightly coiled hair, russet skin, and hazel eyes. He was of average height, had a muscular build and broad shoulders. And, as it was soon revealed, a dazzling smile. He had odd flawlessness to him; not a hair out of place or a blemish on his skin. 

"Are you Kit," Leila asked, holding up the letter. 

"Yes, I am. Please, come in." 

Leila entered, finding a man sitting alone at one of many tables. He was silent, not even acknowledging their presence in the room. He held a golden drink in his hand, eyes distant. 

 _Ah,_ Leila thought. _How lovely._

"Would you like something to drink," Kit asked, going behind the bar. 

Leila glanced back to the frozen man in the corner and smiled apologetically at Kit. 

"I'm afraid a drink would do me no good on my journey back." 

Kit glanced up at her, then nodded. "Of course." 

"So," Leila began, looking around the inn, "If I may, can I ask how an innkeeper has ties to Queen Victoria?" 

"Oh, I've been of service to the crown for quite some time now. Long before Queen Victoria." 

Leila's eyebrows rose. "Really? Well if you don't mind me saying, you hardly look your age, whatever it may be." 

Kit smiled at her again. "Oh, you flatter me." 

She grinned. "I doubt one can call it flattery if it is merely the truth." 

Kit chuckled, pouring himself a drink. "You sure are a sweet-talker, aren't you?"

"I'm a killer," she said, smiling. "I can't exactly win people over with my sparkling personality, can I?"

Kit took a sip of his drink, then eyed her for a moment with a smirk. 

"I think I like you, Mamba." 

He set his glass down, holding out his hand. "May I have your name? Well, your true name?" 

 "You have my true name, innkeeper. I am the Mamba, this is the only name you need to know." 

She took his hand and shook it. Kit smiled, finishing the rest of his drink. 

"Hmm, very well."

"Now, tell me, why have I been summoned here?" 

"There are some things Her Majesty omitted from the letter for the sake of security," Kit said, lighting a cigarette. "Some very crucial blanks that need to be filled in." 

"I wish I was surprised."

He laughed, nodding. "Yes, royals and their secrets." 

"Very well, then. Let's hear it." 

Leila adjusted herself, preparing for a long night. Kit nodded. 

"Well, it is _quite_ the story."

* * *

Ciel sat up in his bed, reading the papers by candlelight. They were letters, newspaper clippings, journal entries, and notes. 

 

> _**9 December, 1832.** _
> 
> _To My Darling Csilla,_
> 
> _Mother calls me mad, but I refuse to accept it! What I have heard and seen these past nights are just as true as what I see, feel and taste in the day. Mother and father insist on dismissing me, to mislead me in believing I am wrong, but I have overheard their conversation tonight. Mother sounded terrified, completely distraught -- speaking of some kind of shadow. What could this mean?_
> 
> _Father demanded her to stay calm, but his voice wavered as well. He has taken to drinking more than usual..._
> 
> _I am correct in what I have experienced, this I know! But now I fear there is danger encroaching upon me and my family. God help us!_
> 
> _I shall record what has been happening here._
> 
> _When I lay down to sleep, I find that a draft enters the room which causes the temperature to drop so low I shiver in my bed. Then, whispers. Fleeting whispers that I can barely decipher. They put me under some kind of siren's spell, for I leave my bed without thought or inhibition, but am still fully aware. I leave my bedroom and begin to wander the house in a daze, searching for the source of the whispers. The entire mansion is freezing cold as well -- this I know, for I have found my feet are pained and frozen when I am fully conscious again._
> 
> _The things I see -- God, the things I see! Terrible, awful things I could never dream of myself! The hallways filled with the bodies of servants, even the children! The rugs and curtains stained and soaking with blood, the torn, ravaged bodies of mother and father, and shadows. Shadows that laugh and rejoice in this carnage and horror, the shadows smile and scream at me. God, Csilla the screams! They come from the deepest abysses of hell itself! I cannot rid myself of them -- I have tried to drown them out with music but they still linger in my ears. I would not wish such misery on my worst foe!_
> 
> _Then, flames. Flames that engulf the beds and corpses. Flames that consume me, that cause my flesh to bubble and scorch. I can smell it, too. The foul stench of burning flesh suffocates my lungs and violates my nostrils. And I run, I run to escape, but the halls and doors are endless! I run in circles until I burn to death, and when I finally collapse to the ground in this vision, I wake in a heart-stopping panic._
> 
> _It takes hours for me to regain any warmth in my body. I have worn more and more layers to bed, but the cold penetrates through as if I was wearing nothing at all! All this fear has caused me great suffering, Csilla. I feared I was truly going mad, but this cannot be the case with how adamantly mother and father say it is nothing but a dream. They know something, and I must find out for myself what this awful secret is before my demise arrives._
> 
> _Forgive me for troubling you with such evil visions, but there is no-one else who wishes to listen._
> 
> _Forever yours,_
> 
> _Emese Tolvaj_
> 
>  

Ciel's eyes widened in disbelief. "Tolvaj?" 

_It couldn't be!_

The paper was aged, worn at the edges and yellowing. These were the genuine letters of Emese Tolvaj. A deep pit formed in Ciel's stomach, and he read on.

* * *

"In 1830s Hungary, a young girl named Emese Tolvaj began to have night terrors. Visions of her parents and servants killed, of blood and flames..."

"What do some girl's night terrors have to do with killing the Countess?" 

"Patience," Kit said smoothly. "All will become clear in due time." 

Leila let out an exasperated sigh, leaning on the bar. 

"As I was saying," he continued. "She recorded these night terrors in letters to her childhood friend Csilla Bartos, who lived with her aunt in Germany after her parents were murdered in a similar situation. Emese considered these terrors visions; warnings of a terrible fate from God.

Now, her parents didn't believe her, but she refused to be swayed and even suspected her parents of having some secret knowledge and her visions signaling to them that they were all in danger."

"So she's mad, right?"

Kit shook his head. "Oh, hardly. In fact, she's on the right track. The only thing she was wrong about was where she was getting the visions from. It wasn't God." 

Leila's eyebrows rose. "If it wasn't God, then who was it?" 

Kit smiled knowingly. 

* * *

"Tolvaj," Sebastian asked. 

"Yes, Lady Emese Tolvaj. The Tolvajes were close to Her Majesty and her family. She survived the massacre of her entire household, claiming God warned her."

" _God?_ "

"Precisely, she was mad."

"I see." 

"The Queen took her in after the tragedy, and she remained there for three years until one day when she abruptly ran away. She was found dead, floating in the Thames."

"How unfortunate."

"These are her letters to Csilla, Sebastian. The original, genuine letters. What would they be doing in the study of Countess Kiernan?"

"Do you have an order for me, Young Master?"

Ciel was silent for a moment, thinking. Then, he spoke. "Track down the source of the Countess's research. That's an order." 

Sebastian bowed. "Yes, My Lord." 

He swiftly left, and Ciel went back to reading. 

 

> _**19 January 1833** _
> 
> _Dear Csilla,_
> 
> _I am beyond glad to hear you are in good spirits! I wish I could return the same news, but I fear my suffering has only increased._
> 
> _As of late, I have been plagued by head-splitting migranes. Not only this, but my night visions have begun to invade my waking hours. It has become harder to rest, for the whispers grow louder and it has gotten too cold to sleep. I've moved rooms several times, but to no avail. The deathly chill follows me with a vengance._
> 
> _I shall describe my migranes, as you know of the vision already. God help me, perhaps I **have** started to lose my mind!_
> 
> _I feel a tension building within me. It feels like a waterfall being held back by a dam, and the dam is cracking, Csilla. When I am at my most distressed, these migranes occur. The pressure is so intense it's as if my head it going to burst! And oh, the ringing of my ears! I worry they may start to bleed if they get worse. Things keep breaking around me in this state as well. Windows tremble and shatter, vases explode, glasses and teacups burst into millions of pieces. This may sound like a lie, but you must trust me when I say servants have flown through the air if a deep hysteria grips me. I don't understand why, Csilla. But I do fear it. Whatever this force is, there is no controlling it._
> 
> _I cannot investigate mother and father, for they're kept me under house arrest as my condition worsens. They avoid me now. I think they fear me..._
> 
> _I see a woman in my visions now. A blonde, doe-eyed woman who weeps blood. I feel her sorrow so deeply it's as if it was my own. At first I feared my fate but now I long for it desperately. I want this misery to end._
> 
> _With much love,_
> 
> _Emese Tolvaj._

* * *

Leila stared at Kit with a deadpan, skeptical gaze. He stared right back. 

"She's mad."

"No, I already told you she's quite sane."

"And what makes you so sure?" 

"She isn't the only girl who's had visions and migraines. Emese is just the only one with letters."

 "Oh, how mysterious," she said dryly. "I'm falling off of my seat in anticipation."

"Oh, don't get too excited just yet," Kit shot back with equal sarcasm. "At this rate, you may lose your head when we get to the scary part."

"Ha ha."

* * *

 

> **_21 January, 1833_ **
> 
> _To My Dearest Csilla,_
> 
> _Please forgive my handwriting, for the trembling of my hands hasn't ceased since last night._
> 
> _They came last night, Csilla. My vision has come to pass. The screams, the blood, the flames. Despite all of these visions, nothing could have prepared me for it. It was like witnessing God's wrath._
> 
> _Csilla, the killer spoke to me. They said they were called Az Arnyek. I could not decipher if they were man or woman. The air around them was like ice and they were cloaked in this distorting shadow. They told me things about my family -- terrible things! I don't wish to believe them. I could not imagine my family -- my ancestors to be capable of something so vile..._
> 
> _I shall tell you what the Az Arnyek said. I would keep such horror to myself, but I'm afraid that this concerns your parents as well. Az Arnyek claimed to have killed them too._
> 
> _I must beg that you believe me, and that you speak to no one of this. It could cost you your life._

Ciel's eyes settled on a rip where the rest of the letter should be. He frowned, flipping it over to see if there was anything on the back. He let out an exasperated sigh.

* * *

"That can't be true," Leila said, wide-eyed. "That's impossible." 

Kit smiled. "It's only the truth, darling. A truth the Queen didn't want anyone to know. That's why she chose you."

Leila sat in silence, chest tight. The same feeling had returned. A terrible, sickening déjà vu. Sebastian's words swirled in her head. 

_"You've eluded me for so long..."_

_"Haven't aged a day..."_

Leila looked back up at Kit, who was preparing a drink for a pale, glassy-eyed woman in ancient clothing at the other end of the bar. He glanced over at her with a smirk as if he already knew what she was thinking: _Why did you tell me this_ and _What else are you hiding?_

He returned to her, leaning on the bar. "Well?"

"You don't really work for the Queen, do you?"

He smiled. 

"Have a good night, Mamba."

Leila left the Silversmith Inn, looking at the building for a moment. She locked eyes with a forlorn child in the window, bony and pale. His eyes were blank. Even the blues of his eyes were faded. With a deep frown, she left Sutton, which had become inexplicably still.

She checked her watch as she walked down the road. Two o'clock in the morning. Her sigh made a large cloud. It had begun to drizzle, then rain. Leila ran into the forest, taking shelter under the trees. Then she walked slowly, her mind racing again.  _Why did_ Kit tell her this? Why go out of his way to do it? Hell, how did he even know who she was?

"I hope your outing has aided your memory, Leila." 

She whirled around, grabbing Sebastian by the collar and slamming him against a tree. Eyes dark, she pressed the edge of her dagger into his neck. 

"Who are you," she demanded. "Who are you?!"

"I am Sebastian Michaelis--"

"I don't know a bloody Sebastian Michaelis," she interjected. "But for some reason, I know you!"

He smiled as she pressed the blade harder. Her grip tightened around the hilt of the dagger. 

"There's no need to be so forceful," he said. "I wish you no harm."

"Well, I'm still deciding if I share the sentiment."

Sebastian made no move for retaliation, only held her gaze. 

"You know me, Leila. You know who I am."

His hands cradled her waist, pulling her against him. Leila's heart pounded in her chest, her fist trembling. Her head was spinning.

"Your body remembers how I touched you, how I held you all those years ago." 

"Just...tell me...who--"

The knife fell from Leila's hand as her head pounded. She shoved him off of her, groaning. Sebastian took her wrist, pulling her close again. 

"I know you feel it, Leila."

His voice was smoky and baritone, swirling in her ears. 

"What are you so afraid of?"

Her lungs felt constricted as she took sharp, uneven breaths. Images flashed in her mind -- shadows, eyes, so many eyes, so many needles -- she swallowed, doubling over and clutching her head. It felt like it would burst. 

"God, shit, what is this?!"

Thunder rumbled in the sky and the ground shook beneath her. She cried out. 

"Leila--"

"Shut up! Shut your mouth!" 

She turned around to see a dark silhouette looming over her with blazing fuschia eyes. 

" _You know me, Leila._ "

* * *

"Nadia, wake up!"

Leila's eyes slowly peeled open. The sound of a thunderclap boomed outside. A shot of adrenaline rushed through her body and she gasped, rising with a start. She was in her bed, warm and dry as if she'd never left the castle at all. 

"Nadia, surely they have thunder in your country," Anna said, frowning deeply. "Please, get a hold of yourself and get dressed."

Anna stepped back in full uniform, eyeing her strangely before leaving the room. Leila blinked rapidly, looking around the room. She let out a long, heavy sigh, getting out of bed. Her entire body was tense and sore, resisting her movement. She groaned, leaning on her bedpost. Her head had a dull ache, and for a moment she was dizzy but the spell passed. With a deep bitterness festering inside her, Leila got dressed as thunder crashed outside once again. She rubbed her eyes, putting on her glasses and wrapping up her hair. Her muscles burned in protest as she did, and she gritted her teeth when she pushed herself to finish it. She lowered her arms with a quiet, pained hiss. 

Tentatively sitting back down, Leila laced up her boots and made her bed. Then, she took a long, deep breath and opened the door. The same red-headed girl was in front of her door, eyes widened in surprise. 

"Oh!"

Leila squinted. Ah, she was wrong. This was a different girl. The other one was green-eyed. This one had blue eyes.

"Morning."

"Good morning, Miss Bekhti, my name is Lilian Rhys."

She smiled, holding out her hand. Leila took it and inwardly winced -- her hand was painfully sore, too. 

_I'm finding that damned butler today._

"Are you alright Miss Bekhti?" 

"Hmm? Oh, erm, yes." 

"It's just...you seem...in pain."

Leila looked at her in surprise. "Ah. Well, I slept strangely."

Lillian nodded in understanding. "Yes, the beds aren't too nice, are they? Well...I'll make sure you get to rest soon."

"Thank you, Lilian."

She smiled. "Of course."

The two made their way to the laundry room, weaving through other servants starting their day. 

Upstairs, Ciel stood before Eilish's study, fist raised to knock. He'd been this way for about three minutes. 

"My Lord," Sebastian asked quietly. "Shall we come back later?"

"No, I just--"

Ciel let out a breath, giving a firm knock. The door opened quickly, with Eilish smiling pleasantly. 

"I figured I'd wait until you knocked. Come in, Lord Phantomhive."

She gave Sebastian a nod and he departed as she closed the door. Ciel sat down, and she returned to her seat. 

"Well, did I sway you?"

Ciel set the letters on the table, meeting her eyes. 

"I'm afraid not, Countess."

He smiled. "In fact, you've only piqued my interest."

Eilish's eyebrows rose. She leaned back in her seat. 

"I see. Well, I tried."

She extended her arm across the desk, holding her hand out. 

"Welcome to the team, Lord Phantomhive."

Ciel took her hand and shook it firmly. "Glad to be here."


End file.
